


1,000

by JDSampson



Series: Counting Kisses [4]
Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDSampson/pseuds/JDSampson
Summary: 1,000 kisses - it's so close but an upsetting encounter leaves Quinn wondering if he shouldn't end his affair with Allen for Allen's own good.





	1. Chapter 1

Quinn had lost track. He knew they were somewhere in the mid-900 range – or so he thought but he didn’t want to ask. Asking made it sound too much like he was anxious to get to 1,000. Which he was, but after the near fiasco of 847, he didn’t want to even give the suggestion that he was pushing but they had to be close and he couldn’t get that out of his brain.

They’d just finished having breakfast together at a diner not far from the University. After that, Allen was headed off to teach while Quinn had to catch a plane for Washington.

“Just budget stuff, I swear,” Quinn said as he walked Allen to his car. “Sightings increase, our trips increase, and the money to pay for it has to come from somewhere. Harding wants me to use my charm to convince Congress to give us more cash.”

Allen opened the car door. “Well, if anyone can talk them into doing what they don’t want to do, you can.”

That hit weird, but Quinn let it go. “See you in a couple of days.” He leaned in and kissed Allen before realizing what he’d done. He snapped back and saw it register in Allen’s eyes. No public displays of affection. It wasn’t acceptable. It wasn’t allowed. But touching, kissing, holding had become so easy between them, Quinn had moved out of habit not thought.

And now. He didn’t even want to look around. “See you in a couple of days,” he repeated then nudged Allen to get into the car. He closed the door and stood there until the engine caught and he was on his way.

Stupid.

Very public parking lot not far from the base. And he was in his uniform to top it off. He could only hope. . . but that was dashed fairly quickly as he felt more than saw the men moving up behind him.

Quinn swallowed hard. Squared his shoulders and assumed his most neutral but authoritative expression before turning around.

There were three of them. Teens; two of them in high school letterman jackets, the third probably older but clearly not the wiser. He was the one who spoke.

“Did we just see what we thought we saw?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Quinn, biting back the temptation to say something even more sarcastic.

“Were you making out with that guy? That’s disgusting.”

Use every technique you know to keep your cool. “I have some place to be. Have a nice day.” He stepped left but the two football players blocked him. He could make a dash to the right, but tall boy would just block him on that side and then he’d be caught playing their game. “You really don’t want to do this.” As soft and menacing as he could manage.

“We really do,” said the leader. “You’re a disgrace to that uniform. So maybe we should take it off you. Especially those medals on your chest.” He tapped a harsh finger into the cluster of metal on Quinn’s jacket.

“I earned those medals and this uniform. So, don’t even think about it.”

“We’re not going to think about it. We’re going to do something about it.”

They were on him faster than he expected given that they were bulky Neanderthals. Quinn landed a few punches but then he just gave in and took the beating.

Deserved it for being stupid. Deserved it for thinking they could make this work in a world with strict rules. It still hurt. Not the punches – he could deal with those. What really hurt were the hideous words the boys were flinging at him along with their fists.

The only saving grace, was that Allen wasn’t here to see this. Or worse, take his share of the beating.

Quinn took it and took it until the boys got bored and left.

No one came to his aide. No one tried to intervene.

Just as well. He dragged himself to his car and sat there wiping blood off his face for ten minutes until he felt strong enough to drive.

He needed to get home. Clean up. Change. And still get on a plane. He’d also have to come up with a good story to tell the Generals.

Second saving grace: since he’d be gone for several days, he wouldn’t have to lie or explain any of this to Allen.

Thank the lord for small favors. 

Quinn told his superiors that the black eye and split lip were the result of a bar fight. It came about because he disagreed with a trio of Neanderthals who didn’t appreciate the freedoms Quinn had fought for during the war. The best lies were the ones closest to the truth.

Harding’s only concern was that the bruises might make Quinn look less professional in front of the budget committee. Quinn said that the fact that he’d gotten the bruises standing up for his country should actually buy him some goodwill.

They spent the evening drawing up a budget which they would present to the committee at noon the next day.

By the time Quinn returned to the hotel he was exhausted. Trying to pretend you weren’t in pain was a lot of work. So he was grateful when he closed the door on the hotel room. Not that he wanted to feel the aches, but right now it was easier than fighting it. He stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and carefully lowered himself on to the bed. He planned on closing his eyes for a half-hour tops, then he’d order dinner and call Allen. Or not. He wasn’t sure his stomach could handle food or that his brain could handle Allen. Calling home meant pretending again.

Deal with it later.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them it was morning.

By 9 am, he was hungry. Quinn ordered breakfast from room service, brushed his teeth, threw some water on his face then pulled on sweatpants with his t-shirt. After breakfast, he’d shower, shave and change into his uniform. He didn’t have a lot of time to dawdle, but he also didn’t have to rush.

Room service arrived at 9:30 and he polished off eggs, bacon, toast and coffee by 10:00. He was about to head into the shower when there was another knock on the door. Room service picking up the cart? He opened the door and was shocked to see Allen Hynek on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” Came out simultaneously with Allen’s, “What happened to you?”

Stunned, Quinn stepped aside and let the professor in because he couldn’t simply slam the door in his face. “Did Harding call you? He didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“He didn’t call. The University canceled the panel discussion I was supposed to be on today, so I thought I’d join you. Captain Abrams was flying out this morning to bring Harding some files and I hitched a ride. Now what the hell happened to you?” Allen reached out to touch Quinn’s split lip but he ducked the hand and put distance between them.

“Bar fight. Guy got in a surprise punch before I took him down.”

“More than one, from the look of your eye. Have you seen a doctor?”

“I’ve been punched before. It’s nothing and I’m sorry you flew all the way out here, but you should go home.” Quinn went to the wardrobe and pulled out his uniform pants and shirt then laid them on the bed.

“Home? Why? I thought I’d come with you to this budget thing. I have as much to say about it as you do.”

“No, you don’t. This is military red tape; you’ll end up spilling science mumbo jumbo all over them and we’ll never get what we want. Go home.” Socks, underwear, shoes. . .

“Alright then. I can spend the day wandering around the Smithsonian. When you’re done we can have a nice dinner out and. . . “

Quinn turned and Allen was right there.

“Hello.” Allen leaned in and place a kiss on Quinn’s lips. “987.”

Quinn slipped away. “I don’t have time for this. I’m running late and I still have to take a shower. As for after, you know Harding. . . it’ll probably be an all-nighter. Plus, I wasn’t expecting you and I have plans.”

And that was one excuse too many. Allen’s eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses, a frown replacing the smile that had been on his lips. “Are you meeting someone else? Is that why you’re so anxious to get rid of me?”

“No, of course not.”

“A woman.” Allen said as if it was a fact.

“No. What would you say that?” Quinn instinctively moved toward him then realized he was walking straight into the trap. “There is no one else. And I appreciate all the trouble you went though but. . . “ He ran out of excuses and steam.

Allen closed the gap between them and slipped his arms around Quinn. The pressure sent a wave of pain through his entire body that ended with a gasp falling from his lips.

“What is going on?” Allen grabbed the hem of Quinn’s t-shirt and pulled it up. The entire left side of his torso was covered in purple and red bruises. “This is not a bar fight. This is a beating. Michael!”

“I don’t have time for this!” With no reason to hide it any longer, he peeled off his t-shirt, tossed it on the bed then grabbed the fresh underclothes. “If you came here thinking we’d have this romantic rendezvous ending with 1,000 – forget it. I’m in so much fucking pain that I can barely stand to lay down on that bed let alone do anything more. . . athletic.”

“I don’t care about that. I care about you. You need to see a doctor. You could have broken ribs, internal bleeding—”

“I will. As soon as I’m done with the meetings today, I will see a doctor. But you have to go home.” He said it with his back turned because he couldn’t bear to see the look of anguish he knew was clouding Allen’s eyes. “I don’t want you here.” He added for good measure, then went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Bad move. The action sent another fiery wave of pain up his side. A wave so awful he felt nauseous and close to passing out. He grabbed the edge of the sink to steady himself and slowed his breathing.

God damn it. Why did Hynek have to be so . . . so Hynek all the time!

He shouldn’t have been so cross with him. The Doc had no idea what had gone down and now his feelings were hurt. Quinn almost went back out to apologize but thought better of it. That was a rabbit he didn’t have time to chase.

He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. At first the hot water felt good running down his back, then he shifted, and the water turned into needles poking into his bruised flesh.

This was never going to happen again. More importantly, he was going to make sure this never happened to Allen. Changes were in order. Changes that were going to hurt more than the bruises, but it was the right thing – the only thing to do for someone he cared about as much as he’d grown to care for Allen Hynek.

When Quinn got out of the shower, Allen was gone. His overnight bag was still on the bed, so not gone as in home, just gone from the room. There was a note on the desk.

_Clearly, I’ve upset you, though I don’t know why. I’m going to spend the day at the Smithsonian, and I’ll be back by dinner. Then we can talk. No more secrets. That was our promise. I’ll see you tonight._

It was signed, ‘Allen’, as if Quinn might not know who had left the note.

He smiled and then frowned just as quickly. This wasn’t going to be easy, but yes, they were going to have to talk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as he wants to shield Allen from the world, Quinn lays it all on the table and the response is. . . .

Allen tried to enjoy his trip to the museum, but he couldn’t get Quinn’s bruises and angry demeanor out of his mind. The two had to be related.

The bar fight story was suspect because it couldn’t have happened between breakfast and Quinn’s flight out the day before. Which meant it had to have happened in Washington after his meetings with the Generals.

That didn’t feel right. He couldn’t see Quinn going out to drink alone when he knew he had to be in front of Congress the next day. Unless the meeting hadn’t gone well, and he went out looking for a fight.

Allen was able to backburner the Quinn problem for a little while when he met one of the museum curators for a late lunch. They had a long talk about the need for a specialized exhibit dedicated to man’s fascination with space – a topic that kept Allen well occupied and excited for nearly three hours.

He was enjoying himself so much he lost track of the time. He hoped Quinn was running as late as he’d suggested because it took Allen forever to get a cab and slowly wind through the jammed city streets.

It was after six by the time he got back to the hotel. A fifty-dollar bill convinced the desk clerk to give him the duplicate key to Quinn’s room. He used it to let himself in and was surprised to find Quinn sound asleep across the center of the double bed. He was fully clothed, except for his uniform jacket, tie and shoes and he was laying on top of the covers.

It was cold in the room, so Allen found a spare blanket in the closet and unfurled it over Quinn’s curled form. He picked the phone up by the base and carried it into the bathroom to call room service. He kept his voice low as he ordered steak dinners, a bottle of wine (for himself), a bottle of bourbon (Quinn’s drug of choice) and dessert. The conversation might not be pleasant, but dinner was going to be delicious.

With a half hour at least to kill, Allen took off his own jacket, tie and shoes. He retrieved his journal and a pen from his bag then chose to sit on the bed instead of at the desk. To do so was to risk waking Quinn with the bed’s movement but he couldn’t resist the pull to be close. Allen arranged the pillows as a back rest then, carefully as he could, sat down quite close to the edge. Quinn was laying on an angle, so his head was close to Allen’s hip, just within reaching distance. He told himself not to, but his hand did it anyway – a gentle caress of the Captain’s hair as if brushing a stray lock back into place.

How had this happened?

How could it be that just the sight of this dashing, young airman was enough to make his heart race? He’d never felt an attraction to another man. He’d hardly ever felt attracted to a woman – except Mimi, of course. But even that fire had cooled with time. He still cared about her – for sure. She was the mother of his child and he was aware of the sacrifices she’d made so he could pursue his passions, his career. She was a good woman, but he had stopped fulfilling her needs long before Quinn came into the picture.

Michael Quinn.

Again, he ran a gentle hand through Quinn’s hair.

987 and counting.

He closed his eyes and went back to 847. How he’d struggled with it only to give himself over to Quinn in the backseat of the car. Like teenagers exploring new and wonderous territory.

Then 1,000 became the new number and with it a promise that it wouldn’t happen in the back seat of a car. They’d be someplace nice, like this grand hotel room in Washington and maybe that was what Allen had had in mind when canceled his classes and hitched a ride to DC.

But now, the bruises, the anger. 1,000 was a long way, away.

He opened his eyes and Quinn was looking right at him. Sort of. He was still drowsy, still mostly on his stomach. He licked his lips and rolled to his back, which meant rolling over the bruised ribs. He gasped and tensed, and Allen automatically reached for him even though there was nothing he could do to ease the pain.

“How long have you been here,” Quinn asked when he found his voice again.

“About a half hour. I ordered dinner. It should be here soon.”

Quinn yawned and rubbed his hands over his face, careful of the puffy skin around his black eye. “I’m so wiped out.

Allen put his unopened journal and the pen on the nightstand then rolled on to his left side facing Quinn. He wanted so badly to kiss him. Hold him. Make the bad go away but he assumed it would all be met with resistance and rejection.

A knock on the door made it all moot.

“That’s dinner.”

Allen got out of bed and opened the door. A busboy rolled in a cart full of food. He took the time to arrange the place settings on the table then set up a makeshift bar on the dresser with the bourbon, a bucket of ice and two glasses. Allen handed him a generous tip then sent him on his way.

Quinn wasn’t around to see it. As soon as Allen went to the door, he went to the bathroom. He told himself he simply needed to use the facilities. But in the back of his mind, there was a niggling thought. What would the bus boy think about delivering dinner for two to two men in a hotel room? Especially if one of those men was half dressed and sprawled out across the bed.

He puttered around until he heard the door open and close then went back into the room. As soon as he stepped out, he was hit with the mouth-watering smell of expensive steaks. Allen was pouring wine into the glasses and Quinn thought the only thing missing from this romantic tableau was a pair of candles.

He lost his appetite.

“You should save the seduction for your wife.”

Allen went pale. “Please don’t do that.” The way he said it – so pitiful and painful. “Whatever is going on between us, please don’t bring her into it.”

“But you had a life, a family and I ruined you.”

“How did you ruin me?”

“Because we can’t be together, don’t you understand? You can take your wife to the movies, hold her hand when you walk down the street. You can kiss her pretty much anywhere, any time and people will say, isn’t that sweet. They’re like lovebirds. Newlyweds. If we do that. If people see that ---” Quinn was moving as he talked, faster sharper and the pain finally stole his breath away. He grabbed the back of the desk chair with one hand and laid his other hand softly on his side. It hurt so much.

“Michael, please calm down. Sit down. I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this.” Allen grabbed a cloth napkin from the place setting then filled it with ice from the bucket.

Quinn slipped down to sitting on the hard chair. Allen helped him pull his shirt loose from his pants. The bruises looked even worse than they had when he first saw them. He tentatively touched the ice to the purpliest spot and winced when Quinn did.

“Michael, who did this to you?”

“Kids. Three of them. They saw me kiss you in the parking lot at the diner.”

“No,” Allen moaned. “I can’t believe. . . “ He trailed off as his gaze fell on Quinn’s hand where it was still wrapped around the back of the chair. Clean knuckles. Not a single mark. “You didn’t fight back, did you? If you’d fought them, your knuckles would be scraped up. But you didn’t fight them.”

“There were three of them,” Quinn offered lamely.

“Three kids! You’re good. You’re trained. You could have taken them out, at least gotten in enough punches to get away. I’ve seen you fight. But you didn’t. You just let them beat on you. Why?”

“Why? It’s obvious why. Because I deserved it. I never should have let this happen. I knew what we’d be facing. I knew we’d never be able to be together like normal couples. And still, I let you fall. And if they’d been quicker – if that had gotten to you, too. . . I can’t let this happen to you. And it will. If we keep going, we’ll make another mistake, someone else will find out and they’ll hurt you.” Quinn touched his palm to Allen’s face then just as quickly pulled his hand back. “This has to stop now. I don’t want this for you. I want you to live happy, not afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. And I’ve never felt happier than I have since the day we met.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“No! I’m a man who doesn’t believe in doing things just because it’s expected. I don’t care if some people say it’s wrong. If it feels right to me, that’s all that matters.”

“Some people?” Quinn took the ice pack from Allen’s hands and moved it higher up on his torso. “You like facts, well here’s one. 96% of people on this planet believe it’s wrong for two men to be intimate.”

Allen rolled his eyes. “First of all. That’s not a fact. You made it up. Second of all, I don’t care if it’s 99.9%. No one is going to tell me how to live my life. You, of all people, should know that, since you’re perpetually pissed off at me for doing things my way.”

Quinn didn’t want to laugh but he couldn’t stop it. “You are something else, you know that? Stubborn and stupid and one of these days you’re going to get us both killed.”

Allen shrugged. “But until then, I’m going to do this—” He cupped Michael’s face in his palms and kissed him, gently at first but when there was no resistance, he deepened it, made sure there was no question about his long-term intentions. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Doc. . . “

Allen ran his thumb gently over a bruise he hadn’t noticed on Quinn’s chin. “I’m so sorry they hurt you. I wish they had been faster. I wish those narrowminded, uneducated hooligans had included me, so it wasn’t on you alone. That’s the part that really wrecks me – that you were out there all alone.”

Allen stepped back when he realized that his own fingers had curled into fists. He wasn’t a violent man. He believed in the power of words, of compromise and education. But this one time, he wanted to beat the living hell out of the monsters who had done this terrible thing. Attacking a man – a decent, honorable, brave soldier like Quinn because he chose to give his love in a way that rattled their safe, suburban cages.

Another new feeling to process, only this one had him knotted up in ways that made him sick. His chest hurt. He couldn’t fill his lungs. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see bruises spreading over flesh – sympathy pains to the max.

“Doc?” Quinn stood, flinched. “Allen.”

Good god. All this ache and anguish from each of them tripping over themselves in a desperate attempt to protect and comfort the other.

Allen crossed his arms over his chest and squared his shoulders in the best imitation of Quinn’s most respectful stance. “I’m in love with you. You know that, right?”

Quinn laughed – hard and that led to a sharp gasp of pain, but the smile never left his lips. “Yeah. I got that.” 

“So, what more is there to say, except dinner’s getting cold.” Allen went to the table leaving a stunned Quinn behind.

“You’re killin’ me, doc.”

Again, Allen shrugged. “Sit down and eat. I’m going to tell you all about the Smithsonian and this idea I had for a special space exhibit.”

“Okay, then.” Quinn did as he was told. He sat. He ate. He listened. And after a bit, he loosened up and his face revealed that expression that Allen so enjoyed. The mix of fascination, wonder and puppy love. The look he always had, only had, when he was listening to Allen ramble about his personal passions.

Well, some of his passions. The thing he was most passionate about he wasn’t permitted to talk about. But he wanted to. He really really wanted to talk about Quinn in the same way he talked about the stars. How beautiful. How mesmerizing. Perplexing and vexing; a puzzle to be unlocked with a reveal that was always new and exciting. But Quinn wouldn’t have it. Compliments were brushed away. Praise became a joke.

Allen was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize he was speaking aloud when he said, “I’d give up the stars for you.”

Quinn stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. He put it down and his eyelids closed, head bowing slightly.

He’d gone too far. He’d pushed too much. Here was Quinn trying to break them apart for his own good and now he’d basically said ‘I love you’ twice in 20 minutes.

When Quinn opened his eyes, there was a sadness there that made Allen wish he hadn’t said anything that wasn’t museum related.

“I’m so afraid for you. You’ve come so far, gotten so comfortable with ‘us’ that you’re going to slip. You’re going say the wrong thing or touch me in public – just how you look at me sometimes – it’s going to get out and your life as you know it will be over. The university will can you. Mimi will leave you. Your son. . . I can’t even. . . the consequences of people finding out are huge. Too huge.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I didn’t rush into this with my eyes closed. I’m not a fool. Or maybe I am. I never thought I’d be where I am now. Where being away from you for even a day without at least hearing your voice physically hurts.” Allen took in a breath preparing himself for the statement he was about to make. “Tell me you don’t feel the same. Look me in the eye and make me believe that you don’t feel the same and I’ll leave, the hotel, Blue Book, all of it.”

Quinn stood abruptly and searched the room until he found cigarettes and his lighter. He lit one and worked it as he walked around the room.

When Allen couldn’t stand it a second longer, he cut off Quinn’s escape and demanded a response. “Answer me! Look me in the eye and tell me!”

Quinn turned his head to blow out a stream of smoke then came back around to meet Allen’s eyes. His expression was blank, no hint of which way this was going to go.

“Doc, the truth; I’d give up my wings for you.” Quinn slipped his left hand behind Allen’s head, holding him still as he kissed him gently on the lips.

988

989

990

“I’ll be careful,” Allen breathed into his ear.

“No, you won’t.” Temple to temple, a sigh in his ear. Quinn turned his head enough to take another drag on the cigarette then he pressed the heel of the same hand into his forehead.

“You’re tired.” Allen ran his hands down the front of Quinn’s shirt careful to stay away from his bruised side. “You should eat, though, then I’ll make you a drink and help you sleep.”

One more kiss.

991.

So close to 1,000 but Quinn was in no shape to celebrate that milestone – mentally or physically.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1,000 is upon us.

They ate a little, mostly in comfortable silence. Allen drank the wine, but Quinn switched to the bourbon. When he was so wiped out that he could barely sit up straight, Allen helped him undress and then climb under the covers.

1,000 wasn’t happening tonight and he didn’t want Quinn to think he was expecting more, so Allen sat down on top of the covers, still fully dressed.

The room was dark, except for the bedside lamp. His journal was still on the table, waiting for notes of the day. He’d get to that in a bit, but first he let his hand gently comb through Quinn’s hair and his fingers caress his face.

Quinn fell asleep after just a few minutes. It was expected but still a little disappointing. He couldn’t help it. Allen had spent the entire plane ride from Ohio to Washington visualizing this night and this wasn’t even close to what he’d had in mind.

_I’d give up my wings for you._

Even an ‘I love you’ didn’t say more than that phrase.

Maybe they were doomed but until then, Allen was going to cherish every touch, every kiss, every act of devotion between them. He’d savor them in the cryptic journal notes that only he could read and relive them when they were apart.

Ten more years or ten more days together, who knew. What he did know was that he didn’t want to wait one more day before giving himself to Michael in the most intimate of ways.

Quinn woke just after 4 am thanks to the dull throbbing behind his eye and in his side. It was dark out but the lamp on the side table was on. Allen was sitting up in bed, asleep and half crumpled with his journal open on his lap.

Gently, Quinn slipped the book out of the professor’s hands. He couldn’t stop himself from giving the page a glance but the notes he found there were unreadable. Some kind of crazy Hynek code. Quinn turned back a page and found non-cryptic notes about the Smithsonian and before that notes about their last case. That meant only one thing; Allen was writing about their relationship in the notebook. Coded or not, so much for being careful.

Quinn put the book on the table, retrieved the pen that had rolled into the blankets and then removed Allen’s glasses. He wanted to move him out of the uncomfortable, crunched position but that would surely wake him, so he decided against it.

How the hell had this happened? Of all the people in the world, he had to fall for a quirky, stubborn, bookworm with fifteen years on him. It made no sense but here they were, counting kisses like a teenage girl and acting out scenes from a heart wrenching, movie romance.

‘I know he’s the son of our mortal enemy, daddy, but I love him, and I’m going to marry him and have his baby!’

Life was weird. And that didn’t include what they did for a living.

Quinn leaned over (ribs complaining) and set a soft kiss on Allen’s lips. And then another. He’d have to tell Allen to add them to the count in the morning.

Moving like he was 79 not 29, Quinn retrieved yesterday’s t-shirt from his bag, poured the last of the ice from the bucket into the shirt and tied it into a neat bundle. He went back to his side of the bed, crawled under the covers and pressed the ice pack to his ribs.

He’d feel better in the morning and he kept telling himself that until he drifted back off to sleep.

When Allen woke, Quinn was gone which scared him until he found the note.

_Need cigarettes, coffee and donuts. Be back when I’ve found them all_

No signature but it was Michael all the way.

The fact that he’d gone out to forage meant he was feeling better, which was good news. Allen himself was feeling the ache that came from sleeping in a semi-upright position.

Seriously! How were they going to do anything if one or the other of them was perpetually in pain?

A hot shower was definitely in order. He took his time, relishing the lack of having to be anywhere by a certain hour and came away refreshed and ready to tackle the next . . . what to call it. . . sharp turn (?) in their relationship.

Michael returned as Allen was dressing - as casually as his wardrobe allowed.

“Thank the lord for Washington’s French heritage, I found beignets.” He set a bag of the fried pastry balls on the table along with coffee in paper cups.

As Allen approached, Quinn got up to meet him halfway. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you yesterday.” He laid his hands on Allen’s shoulders then ran them down his arms. “I’ve always felt the need to protect people, guess that’s why I joined the military. But with you it’s more of a compulsion.” He leaned in for a gentle kiss.

“992,” said Allen.

“Actually, it’s 994. I kissed you twice while you were sleeping but they fully counted, I promise.”

Only 6 more to go.

Quinn stepped away and lit a cigarette before sitting down at the table to eat. “Have you ever had these?” He broke open a beignet to reveal the airy layers of flakey dough on the inside. “They’re sinful.”

“No. Never.” Allen sat down at the table and played with his coffee cup a moment before making a decision. “I have a confession.”

That stopped Quinn mid-bite. “Oh?”

“I told you that I came here because the university canceled an event and I thought you’d like my help with the budget committee. The truth is, I canceled because I figured you’d be staying in a luxurious hotel room like this one and we were so close to 1,000 it seemed like the perfect place. . . “

“So, exactly what I said yesterday. Romantic rendezvous.”

“I didn’t want to end up in the backseat of the car again. And if it happened when we were at home, then we’d have to wait until we got a case, so we could be alone. . . Or I’d have to stop you from kissing me—”

“Stop ME from kissing YOU?”

“And me – you.” This was getting complicated. “And now you’re not feeling well and if you extend your stay more than another day now that the meetings are done, Harding will wonder why.”

“You’ve given this waaaay too much thought.” Quinn pushed a beignet his way. “If Harding does ask, I’ll tell him I wasn’t feeling well and decided to stay an extra day to rest. I am actually feeling much better. Icing my ribs helped a lot, thank you for that idea. And I’m feeling better about us. I’m not going to let a bunch of cavemen bully me into giving up what I want more than anything in this world.”

“Cigarettes?” Allen asked before chomping into the greasy pastry.

A smile curved Quinn’s lips. “Don’t ever make me choose between you and my smokes. It could get very ugly.” He propped his elbow on the table and set his chin on his upturned palm. “As for 1,000 – I’ll repeat what I said at 847. It’s just a number. If you’re not ready, it’s fine.”

Allen matched Quinn’s pose and looked him squarely in the eyes – in those big, beautiful, chocolate eyes. “I’m so ready.” But even to his own ears it didn’t sound convincing. That was nerves. The same kind of nerves he always felt when he didn’t have a clear sense of direction.

A man and a woman were designed to go together in a particular way. But two men. . . . there were choices to be made. Someone had to be the ‘woman’ in the scenario, and he had no idea if Michael expected him to take on that role or the other way around.

“You’re thinking again.” Michael leaned over the table and kissed him then he pulled back slightly so he was right there; eyes locked on eyes. “Allen. Trust me.”

Allen opened his mouth to say something clever in return, but a rush of emotion choked out any sound. He nodded and hoped that was enough to say what was in his head, ‘Michael Quinn, I trust you like I’ve never trusted anyone else in my entire life. Lead the way, and I’m yours.’

They put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. To hell with the maid service – they were only going to mess the bed up anyway but that wasn’t where they started. They started in the shower. Quinn had gone straight out in the morning, pulling a t-shirt and pants on over the underclothes he’d slept in. It wasn’t the way he liked to start the day but the need for coffee and cigarettes had won out over his need for clean skin and clothes.

Allen had already showered, his hair still damp, skin still smelling of soap, but he wasn’t going to pass up a golden opportunity like this. Most of the motel’s they stayed in had a rinky little shower head over an uncomfortable, old fashioned tub which discouraged any kind of erotic activity.

This hotel, however, had a glorious shower in a cabinet with a flat floor. (No trying to balance in the confines of a curved tub) And best of all, it appeared to have been made for two.

Quinn chose to shave before showering – which Allen assumed was nothing more than a tease to keep him waiting. He tried to hurry the Captain along by undressing behind him which Quinn could easily see while watching his own reflection in the mirror.

As he pulled off the last stitch of clothing, he was struck by the oddest thought. Neither of them had ever stood completely naked in front of the other. Not in the full light of day.

Sure, they’d made out plenty in motel beds and the backseat of various cars, but they almost always worked around various states of dress – or undress – depending on your point of view, rarely stripping down to skin.

When they shared a bed, it was usually after a long day of chasing nightmares so Allen would be in his trusty pajamas while Quinn went with boxers and a t-shirt.

A couple of times, it was so hot they both went without but under the cover of darkness it was a glimpse here and a glimpse there.

Now here he was in all his not-so-glory feeling every one of the fifteen years he had on the young Captain. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. . . Allen started to reach for his robe on the back of the door when Quinn caught his eye in the mirror.

“Don’t even think about it.” A sly smirk lit up his lips and even though it was warm in the small room, Allen felt a shiver run down his spine. “Almost done.” He went back to dragging the straight razor over his chin.

“You know what’s not done? We’re still 3 short.” (They’d snuck in a few kisses after coffee and donuts.)

“Mmmm, I can fix that.” Quinn set down the razor and splashed water over his face to rid himself of any remaining shaving foam.

Allen grabbed a towel, purely for the purpose of drying Quinn’s face for him, not at all to hide behind. Then again, being naked while his partner was still dressed was a bit awkward.

Quinn turned into his arms and held still while Allen wiped away the drips from his cheeks, and chin and eyelashes. As soon as the towel moved away, they knocked out two of the remaining three kisses.

“Let’s save that last one,” Quinn said with a wink. “And stop trying to hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” Allen said in an ‘I think he doth protest too much’ voice. “But I notice you’re still dressed.”

Quinn rolled his eyes then stepped as far back as he could in the confines of the bathroom. With more ceremony than needed, he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants. The t-shirt went up over his head and landed on the pile.

He gave his boxers a teasing tug but Allen’s focus was higher up. The bruises.

“Michael, what they did to you—”

“Stop! This is 100% feel good time. No complaints. No worries. No talk of anything that isn’t . . . . fun.”

“Yes sir,” Allen saluted, and Quinn was overcome by another unexpected laugh. Fine. I’ll play.

He tugged the stretchy waistband of his boxers down past the barely there round of his hips then let gravity take over. “Happy now?”

“Overjoyed.” Allen reached for him but Quinn ducked the touch to turn on the shower.

“I like it steamy.” A fact Allen already knew from the number of steamed up motel bathroom’s he’d entered after Michael was done showering.

The water heated up quickly and soon they were both sharing the space; Quinn directly under the water with Allen hanging back from the extremely hot spray.

“Allow me,” Allen said, taking the soap from Quinn’s hands. He rubbed it between his palms to raise a lather then ran his hands over Quinn’s chest and arms. He was intimately acquainted with the shape of the Captain’s muscles, but the addition of the soap made touching him a whole new experience. “Turn around.”

Quinn complied, bracing his hands against the shower wall as the water pelted the back of his neck and shoulders. Beautiful shoulders with sharp shoulder blades and lean sides. Not an ounce of fat on the man – nothing but well-exercised muscle and exquisitely carved bone.

Allen soaped up his hands a second time then continued his travels over Quinn’s hips and down each leg. As his hand slipped between them, Quinn shifted to widen his stance; undoubtedly encouraging a touch of a different kind. When it didn’t happen, he moaned with impatience then turned to face Allen again.

“You missed a spot.”

“Did I?”

“You did.” Quinn stepped closer so they were skin to skin and suddenly he was all lips and teeth and hands touching and tasting a bit of every part of Allen’s body. And when he dropped to his knees and took him whole, Allen nearly stopped breathing. He threaded his fingers through Michael’s short hair, holding him still while he fought the urge to take control of the action. They’d only ever done this with hands before so mouth, lips, tongue – it was raw and wanton and it nearly sent him over the edge.

Michael backed off before he got there. He stood and his deep, scratchy voice poured into Allen’s ear. “Not yet. It’s sooo much sweeter at the end of a long wait.”

He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower leaving Allen alone to wonder if this was all some crazy dream. 

“Are you coming or not?” Quinn called as he left the bathroom.

“Apparently, not anytime soon,” Allen replied as he slowly followed.

“You did not just say that.” Quinn turned and hit him with the most brilliant smile, then kept walking backwards until his legs bumped the bed and he could fall.

“You’re getting the bed all wet,” Allen admonished.

“Speaking of wet, go back in the bathroom and get the bottle of oil from my shaving kit.”

Normally, Allen would protest being ordered about like that, but his curiosity got the best of him. He returned to the bathroom and easily located the bottle of clear, viscous, liquid.

“Johnsons Baby Oil?”

“You really don’t have a bottle of that stuff in your bedside table?”

“No,” Allen said with his most indignant tone.

“What is wrong with you?”

Allen’s reaction said he took the remark to heart. Quinn rolled his eyes. “What is wrong with you in the sense that this is good stuff. Bring it here and I’ll show you.” Quinn got fully on to the bed and patted the empty space beside him. “Lay down.” When Allen didn’t move right away Quinn groaned. “Seriously, why are you being like that?”

“You’re very weird all of a sudden.”

“I’m anticipating. Now get your ass over here.”

“Well, that’s a lovely invitation.” But Allen did it anyway. He laid down on the bed and was again struck by the awkwardness of being so exposed in broad daylight.

“Are you blushing? That’s so cute.”

Allen started to get back up but Quinn grabbed him and easily pinned him down to the bed. “No, none of that.” He draped himself over Allen, one growing erection pressing down on another but even that stimulation wasn’t enough to draw Allen’s focus away from Quinn’s beautiful eyes.

“Doc,” he said softly. “You know I’m madly in love with you, right?”

His brain said it had to be a joke, no one this vital and handsome and smart could be in love with a physics professor past his prime. But his heart believed, and it was working hard to get his brain to shut up and enjoy.

Quinn caught his mouth and delivered the most perfect kiss of all the kisses that went before.

“1,000.”

“1,000,” Allen repeated. His heart did a little jump for joy while his brain began scrambling eggs. What now? What if? How does? Should he? Or I?

Quinn slipped off him and landed on his side with his head propped up on his hand. “You’re so easy to read. You have questions. Ask.”

There he goes mind reading again. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t look.”

What? “No. I’m better when I understand what’s expected and there are options here and I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to. It’s more that we’ve never discussed it.”

“Discussed it?”

“Who goes where? Who is. . . I don’t know how else to say it! Which of us is the woman?”

Quinn was fighting hard not to laugh which didn’t make Allen feel any better about the dumbness of his question.

“The terms you’re looking for are top and bottom. The top is the giver and the bottom the receiver.” Michael snuggled closer and lowered and slowed his voice. “Remember when we were in Lubbock and you spent the afternoon filling that chalkboard with ideas.”

“Yes,” Allen said cautiously, totally confused as to why this was relevant.

“Ever since that day. Ever since I spent those hours watching you work; I’ve had this bug in my brain. This. . . “ Long breath and sigh. “Fantasy.” The word whispered into Allen’s ear. “I’m in your class but I have a hard time concentrating on the lessons because. . .well.” Quinn picked up the bottle of baby oil and popped the cap. “Because my professor is so fucking hot I can’t think straight.” He poured a stream of the thick liquid into his palm. “As a result, I’m very disruptive. So disruptive, you keep me after class so you can dole out some discipline.” Michael wrapped his hand around Allen and began massaging and stroking, transferring the oil from skin to flesh. “You bend me over your desk and teach me the kind of lesson I’ll never forget.”

Allen was speechless. Breathless. Eyes blinking over and over as he pushed himself into Michael’s hand.

“In other words,” – right into his ear again – “I’m desperate for you to be the top.” He crawled over Allen and off the bed. Snagged a pillow from the bed and laid it on top of the hotel room desk. “Teach me a lesson, professor.”

Quinn laid himself over the pillow on the desk, presenting himself in the most lewd and yet incredibly seductive manner.

Quinn waited without looking, not sure if this was going to end badly or not at all. He tried to make allowances for the fact that this was new territory for Allen, tried to keep it light and fun – which also seemed like new territory for Allen. Then again, he’d been raised in an era where sex was a duty performed purely for the purpose of repopulating the earth. It wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be played like a game.

He was starting to lose his edge when he felt Allen move up behind him. Then hands on his hips. Then flesh pressed to flesh. He closed his eyes and waited impatiently for the moment he’d been imagining for the better part of the past 8 months. 1,000. No going back now.

“Wait. I have a thought.”

Quinn moaned and dropped his head to the desk. “Of course you do.”

“Well, if my goal is to discourage you from being disruptive, why would I give you what you want? It would make more sense to deny you.”

“No. No denying.” Quinn was about ready to call the whole thing off. “Look it’s just. . . “ Don’t fight it. Go with it. You know how he thinks. “Try this. It’s not punishment, it’s you showing me the lollipop I’ll get if I behave myself.”

Quinn couldn’t see his face, but he could feel Allen thinking about it.

“I can get behind that.”

“Which is good, considering where you are. Now will you please turn your brain off for five minutes and just do this already!”

Allen did it already throwing Quinn into a spin. He thought there would be more messing around. More questions. More hesitation. But when Allen Hynek decided to do something, he went all the way.

The lack of finesse made it a little rough and since Quinn couldn’t find his voice, he wasn’t able to offer any further instruction. Didn’t matter, Allen was finding his own way – a curious rhythm that was mesmerizing. And somehow, he managed to get a hand around the front stimulating Michael from both sides.

The shockwaves that were pulsing through his body from his spine to his brain left him barely able to think, or breath or do anything other than take what was being given.

He felt the pressure of a body being folded over his, then a wet voice in his ear. “According to you, the release is so much sweeter after a long wait.”

8 months was pretty long.

“And I really, really want to please you. So I guess I should stop now and make you wait?”

Oh! What? ‘I’ll kill you’ is what Quinn thought in his head but the only thing that made it past his lips was a frustrated groan. Hynek was a fast learner and now he had the hang of the game.

In spite of the threat, Allen didn’t make him wait. He resumed the action that within seconds had Quinn coming into Allen’s hand and Allen finishing inside of him.

It took another minute or two for either of them to have the strength to move. Allen recovered first, pulling away with a simple step back. Quinn stood, battled with the combo of pleasure and pain in various parts of his body then turned to face his partner.

A million thoughts went through his mind during that 2 second turn. He wasn’t sure what expression he’d find on Allen’s face. Joy? Guilt? What the hell did we just do?

What expression did he find there? A wiseass, Allen Hynek smirk.

“I should have picked a lower number.”

Quinn’s sex charged brain couldn’t make heads or tails of that.

“If I’d know it was going to be like this,” Allen clarified, “I would have picked 500 instead of a 1,000.”

Making love standing up had been another new experience (lots of new boxes to check this day) and though Allen had thoroughly enjoyed the change of pace, his muscles were quick to remind him that laying down was easier.

He returned to the bed expecting Michael to join him. Instead, Quinn set a kiss on his lips and said, “I’ll be right back.” He went into the bathroom and closed the door. A minute passed and then another. Long enough that Allen started to consider this a good time to grab his journal and make some notes.

He was about to act on that thought when Michael returned. He had his pants on. Bare chest and bare feet. He also had a washcloth which, it turned out, was soaked with warm water.

Silently and reverently, he used the warm cloth to wash Allen clean of the remnants of their love making. Then he set the cloth on the side table and offered up one more kiss. “Relax. I’m going to go have a smoke.”

There was nothing sinister or unexpected about Michael needing a cigarette break, yet Allen felt a painful little tug inside as he watched him go out on to the hotel room balcony and close the door behind him.

Quinn sat down on a chair on the balcony, propped his feet up on the railing and looked out over the Potomac. When he first took the gig as head of Project Blue Book it was supposed to be a steppingstone to a permanent position here in Washington. Now, he wished that wish away because leaving Blue Book, meant leaving Allen who would never leave Ohio.

He took a long drag on his cigarette then tipped his head back to blow the smoke into the air.

Funny how things had changed since the day Harding handed him that file.

_You've done great work for us, but I think it's time we got you a partner. Did some things for us during the War. He's a real genius dedicated his life to the sky. Fair warning, though I hear he's a bit odd, kind of quiet. So appeal to his intellect in the interview. You should be able to close the deal._

That was exactly how it went down. Allen had said no. Quinn used his ego against him and then it was okay, but just for this ONE case. Which turned into two a month. One a week. And soon they were spending more time together than most married couples.

Married.

Don’t go there.

1,000.

He wondered if Hynek would keep counting now that they’d reached the ultimate milestone. And now that there was nothing new to anticipate, would these romantic trysts hold the same allure?

And there was still the other HUGE problem with them staying together as partners in every sense of the word.

The balcony door slid open behind him and Allen stepped on to the deck. He was wearing his robe and slippers and looked very all-American dad. He leaned his hips against the railing, so he was facing Quinn whose gaze was still on the city.

“You look unhappy,” said Allen. “Not what you were hoping for?”

It took a second for his meaning to become clear in Quinn’s head. “What?” He met Allen’s gaze, a crooked smile dragging up one side of his lips. “More than I had hoped for.”

“You’re lying.”

Quinn lifted two fingers in a boy scout salute. “Honest. You just caught me thinking how I almost let three, narrowminded, uneducated hooligans cheat me out of that mind-blowing experience.”

“Me, as well.”

Again, Quinn was a little perplexed by the turn of phrase.

“There were two of us. I would have been cheated out of the experience as well,” Allen clarified. “So can I take it that ending our relationship is now off the table?”

“Completely.” Quinn turned his eyes back to the city and the river and took another drag. “Just want to finish this smoke and I’ll come back in.” That sounded a bit like a harsh dismissal, but he needed a little time alone to think.

Allen pushed off the railing and headed back inside but two steps toward the door he stopped. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“This top and bottom thing – is it flexible? I mean, can it change from time to time?”

“Absolutely.” Quinn said, offering up his curious and surprised sideways glance that Allen often brought out of him.

“Good to know.” He leaned down and caught the top of Quinn’s head with the briefest kiss. “Take your time.” Then he went inside and shut the sliding door.

The smile stayed on Quinn’s lips as he starred up into a cloudless sky and thanked the heavens for sending aliens to Earth.

The End


End file.
